


Perpetual Anticipation

by bookishandbossy



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, other members of the team are mentioned, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishandbossy/pseuds/bookishandbossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, three times Fitzsimmons tried to go on their honeymoon and one time they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perpetual Anticipation

The first time that they tried to go on their honeymoon was right after their wedding, when they took the Chunnel to Paris. They had a tiny hotel room on the Left Bank, with a giant bed and a beautiful view of the city, which was really all they needed. They had a plan: wander through art museums, sneakily take a paint sample of the Mona Lisa to analyze and determine if it was a forgery, get lost in the winding streets of Paris, eat French pastries until Fitz gained back the weight that he’d lost after the med pod. But on their second day there, a helicopter landed in front of them in Luxembourg Gardens with May yelling at them to get in from the cockpit. Trip and Skye had stumbled upon an alien substance somewhere in Malaysia, which was possibly alive, probably dangerous, and definitely glowing.  
“They do realize that we were supposed to be on vacation?” he grumbled to her. “They definitely don’t have eclairs in the jungles of Malaysia.”  
“It might be alive, Leo. Real alien life that we could run all sorts of tests on…maybe we could cut it open just the tiniest bit.” Jemma said and squeezed his hand tight, pushing down the tiny twinge of disappointment that she felt. It’d been a miracle that their week of vacation had been approved so she really shouldn’t have been surprised that it was cut short, she told herself. So she pushed down the voice that said she really would have liked to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower and remembered that if she was happy about it, Fitz would try his best to be happy too.  
“I wouldn’t count on the dissecting,” May’s voice crackled over their headsets. “But we’ll do our best to talk SHIELD into paying for your replacement honeymoon.  
“It had better be somewhere remote and inaccessible,” Fitz mumbled. “Especially inaccessible by helicopter.”  
The second time they tried to go on their honeymoon, they were on a tiny island in the middle of the Caribbean. They had a thatched bungalow covered in tropical flowers and facing its own perfect white sand beach. They were going to eat dinner together on the veranda and look for monkeys in the jungle and go snorkeling in water so clear that Fitz would have nothing to be afraid of. But the speedboat pulled up when they were in the middle of constructing an elaborate sand castle on the beach, arguing over whether the red or blue pail would be more effective while Jemma tried to win the argument by kissing him until he couldn’t talk anymore. She was on the verge of victory when she heard the motor and pulled away, ignoring Fitz’s sounds of protest.  
“What was that for—oh. They’ve got to be kidding. Jemma, please tell me that they’re kidding.” He stared at the motorboat with horror. Skye was driving it, looking remarkably cheerful for someone who was about to disrupt the honeymoon of two people who could poison her in about fifty different ways.  
“The night-night gun broke!” Skye shouted over the roar of the motor.  
“It broke?! How did you manage to break it?”  
“Trip and I were on a mission in Montana…there was a waterfall…and a bear. These things happen. Can you fix it?” Skye asked hopefully.  
“Not from here!” he shouted.  
“Yeah, probably not. Would you guys really mind coming back? Because if you don’t, Coulson told me to tell you thathe’sprobablygoingtothrowoutthepiecesofthenightnightgun.” Skye blurted out the last words, running them together in the hope that they wouldn’t notice the bit about pieces.  
“Throw out?!” That was her.  
“Pieces?!” That was him. Twenty minutes later, they were crammed into the back of the speedboat with their luggage. Fitz was complaining loudly about the way they jolted over the waves as Jemma looked longingly back at their sandcastle.  
The third time they tried to go on their honeymoon, they had to turn back before they even got on the plane. Skye, Trip, and May cut into the middle of the security line to tell them that there was a rogue superhero in South America. It took them months to get their tickets to Thailand refunded and even longer for Fitz to stop talking about the monkeys they had been planning to meet.  
The fourth time they tried to go on their honeymoon, they booked a cabin in the middle of the Swiss Alps in December and prayed for blizzards. They had a plan: eat fondue and learn how to ski and go skating on the lake. The phone rang when they were melting the cheese. Fitz grabbed the phone and shouted “No!” as loudly as he could into the speaker. Then he saw the caller ID. “Director Coulson, I’m sorry.” his voice went up another octave. “I thought that you were…no, sir, I didn’t mean to…the Large Hadron Collider…they really asked for me…well, I think that maybe—” In five seconds, the phone was out of his hand, he was pressed up against the table, and Jemma was holding the phone with one hand and unbuckling his belt with the other.  
“This is Simmons, sir. My husband is a bit…tied up at the moment.” she glanced down at his hands, bound together with his tie in a secure slip knot that she was really quite proud of. “ And definitely not going to the Large Hadron Collider. This is our fourth attempt at a honeymoon and we’ll be back next week. And after we hang up, I’m breaking this phone into at least five pieces. No offense meant, sir.” In another five seconds, the phone was in tiny pieces beneath her heel, the cheese was off the stove, and Jemma had him precisely where she wanted him. “Let me explain something, Leo Fitz.” she slid her hands underneath his shirt, relishing the sound of his gasp. “We are finally on our honeymoon and we are finishing it, no matter what happens. The Large Hadron Collider can blow up for all I bloody care—” He couldn’t go any longer without kissing her then and they nearly both toppled over, but then she pressed him back into the table, standing between his legs and sliding her hands into his hair until they were both dizzy. “Leo?” she gasped.  
“Yes?”  
“Bed. Now.” she said firmly. And, even with his hands tied behind his back, Leo Fitz had always been capable of giving his wife what she wanted.


End file.
